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Thursday, November 20, 2014

BLOG TOUR: Tree of Water

The
human boys had an expression back in the faraway city of Vaarn where I was
born. It went like this:

Curiosity
killed the cat

Satisfaction
brought him back

I
am a curious person. I was just as curious back in my early days in Vaarn as I
am now, perhaps even more so, because my curiosity had not yet been given a
chance to be satisfied.

The
first time I heard this expression, I was very excited. I thought it meant that
my curiosity could make me feel like I was dying, but it would let up if I
discovered the answer to whatever was making me curious.

I
told my mother about the rhyme. She was not impressed. In fact, she looked at
me as if I had just set my own hair on fire on purpose. She patted my chin,
which was woefully free of any sign of the beard that should have been growing
there.

“That’s
very nice,” she said, returning to her chores. “But just in case nobody told
you, you are not a cat, Ven. Unlike you, cats have whiskers.”

My
pride stung for days afterward.

But
it didn’t stop my curiosity from growing as fast as my beard should have been.

My
name is Charles Magnus Ven Polypheme, Ven for short. Unlike the human boys in
Vaarn, I am of the race of the Nain. Nain are somewhat shorter than humans, and
grumpier. They live almost four times as long as humans, and tend to be much
less curious, and much less adventurous. They hate to travel, don’t swim, and
generally do not like other people. Especially those who are not Nain.

I
clearly am not a good example of my race.

First,
I am very tall for a Nain, sixty-eight Knuckles high when I was last measured
on the morning of my fiftieth birthday. I’ve already mentioned my
uncontrollable curiosity, which brings along with it a desire for adventure. I
have been blessed, or cursed, with quite a lot of that recently.

But
as for the curiosity, while I’ve had a lot of satisfaction for the questions it
has asked me, it doesn’t seem to matter. As soon as one burning question is answered,
another one springs to mind immediately. As a result, I am frequently in
trouble.

So
now I am about to lay my head on a chopping block, on purpose, and a man
with a very sharp knife is standing over me, ready to make slashes in my neck.

I’m
wondering if in fact instead of being a live Nain, I am about to end up as a
dead, formerly curious cat.

Because
now I have three whiskers of my own.

Ven
Polypheme had two sets of eyes staring at him.

One
set was black as coal. The other was green as the sea.

Neither
of them looked happy.

The
green eyes were floating, along with a nose, forehead, and hair on which a red
cap embroidered with pearls sat, just above the surface of the water beneath
the old abandoned dock. The brows above the eyes were drawn together. They
looked annoyed.

The
black ones were in the middle of the face of his best friend, Char, who stood
beside him on the dock. They looked anxious.

In
the distance a bell began to toll. Ven looked to his left at the docks of the
fishing village to the south of them, where work had begun hours ago. Then he
looked behind him. The sleepy town of Kingston in the distance was just
beginning to wake up.

Ven
looked back down into the water.

“Come
on, Amariel,” he said to the floating eyes. “I can’t really go off into the sea
without him.”

A
glorious tail of colorful scales emerged from below the surface, splashing both
boys with cold salt water.

“Why
not?” a girl’s voice demanded from the waves. “He’s a pest. And he isn’t nice
to me.”

Char’s
black eyes widened.

“I—I’m
sorry ’bout that,” he stammered. “When I first met you, Ven didn’t tell me you
were a mermaid—” He shivered as another splash drenched him again. “Er, I mean merrow.
I’m sorry if I made you mad.”

“Hmmph.”

“Please
let him come,” Ven said. “Captain Snodgrass gave him orders to keep an eye on
me. So if I’m going to explore the sea with you, he kinda has to come along.”

Char
nodded. “Cap’n’s orders.”

“He’s
not my captain,” said the merrow. “I don’t take orders from humans. You
know better, Ven. My mother will fillet me if she finds out I’m traveling with
a human male. Especially if we are going to go exploring. There are very
clear rules about not showing humans around the wonders of the Deep. And
besides, it’s dangerous. You have no idea how many sea creatures think humans
are tasty. I don’t want to get chomped on by mistake.”

Out
of the corner of his eye, Ven watched Char’s face go white.

“We’ll
be careful,” he promised. “Char will be on his best behavior.”

“I’ve
seen his best behavior. I’m not impressed.”

“Look,”
Char said. “If you get sick of me, you can always cover me with fish guts and
toss me out as shark bait.”

The
merrow stared coldly at him.

“Oh,
all right,” she said finally. “But remember, there’s a reason they call
bait for sharks chum. ‘Chum’ is another word for ‘friend.’” Her eyes
stayed locked on Char. “And if you make a bunch of sharks angry, Chum—”

“I’ll
be chum,” Char said. “Got it.”

“So
if you’re coming, we have to find a fisherman named Asa with a red-bottomed
boat.” Amariel pointed south to one of the far docks. “He’ll cut your gills,
and we can get going.”

Both
boys grabbed their necks.

The
merrow rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Do you want to be able to breathe
underwater or not? Gills are the only way I know of to do that. I’m tired of
waiting. Decide whether you’re coming or whether I’m leaving.”

“We’re
coming,” Ven said as he let go of his neck. “Sorry—it’s just instinct. Let’s go.”

Char
nodded, but did not remove his hands.

The
merrow disappeared below the surface of the water.

The
two boys hurried south over the packed sand along the shore.

“Ya
know, it’s not too late to change your mind, Ven,” Char muttered. “We could get
a boat or somethin’, and follow her out to sea, like we did when we were
chasing the Floatin’ Island, and then dive down to see whatever she
wants to show us—”

“You
can stay on shore if you want to, Char,” Ven said, trying to see the merrow in
between the waves. “But I promised her a long time ago that I would explore her
world with her. It’s now or never.”

“Have
it your way,” Char said gloomily. “You always do anyway.”

They
followed the pebbly path in the sand south until the fishing village came into
sight. Several long piers led out into the harbor, with docks along each of
them. Small boats lined the docks. At each boat fishermen were hauling nets
filled with flapping fish and cages with crabs and lobsters onto the piers.
Seagulls flew in great wide circles above, screeching and crying, then diving
for food.

“So
how did she happen to find this Asa, and how does she know he won’t just cut
our throats?” Char asked as they picked their way among barrels and pieces of
rope on the slats of the pier.

Ven
shrugged. “No idea. But sailors and merrows have a pretty good connection.” He
pointed about halfway down the pier, where a small green fishing boat with a
red bottom bobbed lazily in the morning tide. A wrinkled man in a wrinkled hat
sat on a barrel at the edge of the dock, cleaning his morning catch of fish.
“Could that be him?”

Char
squinted. “I guess so.”

“Come
on. We may as well ask. If it’s not Asa, he probably knows where to find him.
Fishermen all know each other.”

The
two boys walked along the pier, stepping out of the way of men dragging lobster
traps and heavy netting, until they got to the red-bottomed boat. They stopped
behind the elderly fisherman, who did not seem to notice they were there.

Ven
coughed politely.

“Excuse
me, sir—are you Asa?”

The
fisherman looked up from his work, his sky-blue eyes twinkling in the sun.

“Who’s
askin’?”

“Er,
my name is Ven, sir. I was told I might find a fisherman at this dock who
could, uh, cut gills.”

The
wrinkly man nodded. “Well, Ven, you’ve found ’im. But I can’t say as
I’ve heard of any recent wrecks.”

Ven
blinked. “Pardon?”

“Shipwrecks,”
said the fisherman. “That’s the only reason I know of for a man to risk a slice
in his neck—to salvage the treasure from the bones of a shipwreck.”

“Oh.”
Ven and Char exchanged a glance, then looked off the edge of the dock.

In
the water behind the boat, the beautiful tail of multicolored scales was waving
at them from beneath the surface.

“Uh,
we weren’t really planning to dive for treasure,” Ven continued, trying to
block the sight of the merrow’s tail. “We just want to do some exploring.”

The
fisherman’s eyebrows arched.

“The
sea’s no place to explore without a good reason, lads,” he said seriously.
“Lots of bad stuff down there—believe you me. The only reason a man takes his
life into his hands on a daily basis by going out there is to make a living for
his family. Otherwise, we’d farm the land.” The blue eyes twinkled. “If we knew
how.”

“Well,
we’d really like to have gills, nonetheless,” Ven said. “We’ve been told you
know how to, er, cut them without too much pain—and safely. Is that true?”

Asa
exhaled, then nodded.

“I
suppose that depends on how much is too much where pain is concerned,” he said.
“That’s really up to you. It’s not my business what you’re doing. We mind our
own business on the sea. If you want gills, and you’re willing to take the
risk, I can cut ’em for you right quick.” He held up a thin silver filleting
knife. “Then I have to get back to cleaning my catch. So, what’ll it be? Make
haste, now.”

Char
and Ven looked at each other once more, then nodded at the same time.

“We’re
in,” said Char.

“All
right then,” said Asa. He reached into the boat and took hold of the top of a
small sea chest that held his tackle. He slammed it closed and put it on the
dock in front of them. “Kneel down and put your heads on this chest, your left
ears down.”

The
boys obeyed.

“Well,
’s been good to know you,” Char whispered as they positioned their heads on the
chest.